#she gonna die huh

[another-chaotic-bisexual-vampire]

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Every time I see someone earnestly say that Carver hates Hawke, I have to exercise such restraint to not scream.

Every day I get closer to writing a deep dive about him because that's my guy. He's so interesting. He feels so much. He tries so hard when talking to the other companions and some of the dynamics he has with them are so good. He can be so fucking funny and sweet and awkward. He so badly wants to be wanted and appreciated and to protect everyone he loves.

Carver Hawke, they could never make me hate you.

[dykesevika]

all these posts talking about sevika dying is sending me into a mental spiral

[epickiya722]

It is so crazy to me how some people are quick with the slander and calling Shoko a "villain" and acting as if she doesn't have a single ounce of emotion in her body.

Let's be real, if Shoko was screaming and crying they would have called her annoying. I bet they want her to be "more emotional" just so they can slander her that way but given she's not doing that it's "she's a villain because she doesn't care".

Look, I like Gojo, too but HIS WORDS YOU'RE GOING TO FOLLOW?! He's a good guy. But do we not remember who he is?!

In 220, this is Shoko.

Meaning, this whole time maybe Gojo never thought to talk to her after the situation with Geto. Oh, but he's "annoyed that Shoko wasn't against" his decision for Yuta to use his body if he dies, but...

One, knowing Gojo, he probably didn't mean those words and knew that Shoko knew there would have been no winning battle with that one.

Two, Shoko is going to be the same person who later had to snitch that body together and transplant Yuta's brain into it. If anything, Shoko was emotionally and mentally preparing herself for that. She "not caring" is her way of trying to process "I may have to do this horrific task".

Here's a couple of things to consider.

People like to bring up how she acted in Shinjuku when she met up with Geto.

She may not have been close as they (Gojo and Geto) were to each other, but she was there. She was often separated from Gojo and Geto and it wasn't like she had a choice, but she did hang out with them when she could. You think she was really okay with Geto deflecting? No. She just didn't act out because here's a guess, she knew there wasn't any way to convince him otherwise. Hell, Gojo wasn't able to change his mind.

And even if she could have changed Geto's mind, he would have probably still been executed.

She doesn't care? Way back in the beginning, Shoko comforted Yuji after the confrontation with the transfigured humans. She wasn't even in the same room and told him to not think it was his fault because it wasn't. She told him this through the phone. She didn't have to look at his face to know how he was feeling.

In the movie (JJK 0), Shoko was seen taking care of the injured sorcerers and expressed anger because Geto indeed cause trouble for everyone. She wasn't okay with any of that!! We see her walk out the room when they have that meeting about Geto, but we don't see her face. No doubt, she was holding back tears.

She picked up smoking again in the Shibuya arc being stressed out from everything. She had to keep herself together!

Shoko isn't devoid of emotion. She has to keep a tough exterior, she has to have a hard shell. Everyone else had shown to do the same thing, but I don't see anyone slandering them.

Gojo had to keep it together in Shibuya as people were dying right in front of him, but y'all seem to understand that. No slander on his name for it, huh?

Also, Shoko is a doctor. If anyone has an up close experience with death it's her. Imagine the number of bodies she has had to see right in front of her. Colleagues, friends, her fucking teacher!! Everyone around her is dying and she has to see it right in front of her eyes!

That woman ain't getting proper sleep! She had to wash blood off her numerous times! She has to keep herself from breaking down so she could do her job!

But she's the villain?

The same fandom who is so quick to be horny for the actual villains is calling Shoko a "villain"?

Wow, the audacity. But I expected it.

[kiraman]

I. PROLOGUE The faraway nearby

Since first thing that morning everything was spoiling her mood, making her broody and angry. Everything. It annoyed her that she had overslept, squashed into a hard mattress on the floor; stiff and numb from the cold, even with a woolen blanket thrown over her. She had not slept at all last night, vexed by the sharp stench of an airless, stuffy cabin, the sea air dripping through the slats bloated with its own salt. The area below decks was deeply unpleasant. Dozens of men sleeping on rows of hammocks with the smallest amount of space between them – 14 to 16 inches of space allowed for each hammock. There was little ventilation at all and the whole place smelled rank, a combination of poorly washed clothes, old food, sour ale and sweat; she had laid under her thin sheets, wakeful and restless, and when dawn had broken blue and purple over the ocean, she had somehow dozed off; when next she had arisen, everyone was already awake, bustling about the ship, the air throbbing with their laughter.

Mizu was annoyed by the cold, congealed salt beef and dry biscuits she was served for breakfast by a man who tore away from his rum to toss the plate her way with a malevolent sneer which made her hand curl into a fist. She was annoyed by the sly looks of contempt thrown her way as she quickly wolfed down her meal over the deck, refusing to gift her attention to anyone around her, watching the spumes of the white-capped waves lashing the side of the ship as it slashed the seas, instead. She was annoyed. Cold. Stiff. Her muscles knotted against the strain of disuse. She ached for her sword, wishing, fiercely, that she could train, longing for the mountains and the cliffs, but here, where the eye met nothing but the endless skies and open horizon, she could only sit cross-legged on the deck and mediate the hours away, her mind frantic and furious even in complete and absolute silence, plagued by the same image over and over again: her blade in her hand, rippling in the air, tearing into warm flesh, offering death: the wind whipping against her cheek, muscles tensing; a sharp, shallow breath choking in her throat; exhaling. The killing sword making a hissing silver arc, slashing the air with its promise; her pulse pounding in her veins; she moves, suddenly, quiet, like the wind; like lightning flaming the sky. A man’s head topples off his shoulders and a fountain of blood sprays the earth. Red. Red and black with death. Relief. A void. Fragmentary ecstasy, something incomplete and then, a hunger for more, more, more. In her mind, she opens her eyes, and breathes. Afterwards, she sits small and submissive to the greater order; she is not yet done. Something more is needed. In her mind, her mouth fills with blood. She gasps.

She shut her eyes against the glare of the sun.

The horizon had already grown red, sunlight streaming in a narrow band above the waves. The warm, spring weather and cheerful, vibrant chatter filling the air around her, did not improve her mood. She still did not enjoy being here. She still glared and grunted at every glance and question thrown her way, as she had done since first her foot had set upon the ship. She did not speak their tongue and did not mean to entertain them with her otherness; her strangeness; they were to her, as strange and alien as she to them, and she did not wish for their company. When anger and discomfort had sat with her too long, the tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs, Mizu made her way down to the lower decks and stood near the railing of the quarterdeck, stiff, motionless, her left hand unmoving and heavy at her side, the other one on the hilt of the dagger she now carried beneath layers of cloths, a dead thing, sleeping, yet always, half-alert, tensing; one eye peeled open, laying in wait, like a snare. Her fingers coiled around the silver pommel. Her mouth pinched. She leaned out over the ocean and breathed in the fresh salt air, filling her chest with it. The splash of seawater sprayed her cheeks. She sighed, and for a moment, forgot her anger.

❛ — oi, you there! do not lean out. About-turn and scram! ❜ A huge-bellied, broad-shouldered grotesquely tall man with a tangled gray beard and pockmarks on his cheeks strode over, and snapped something that made no sense to her, without taking the stick he was chewing, either from hunger or to kill time, from his mouth. Mizu, violently torn from her moment of peace, turned around slowly and icily gazed at him through her glasses, her face veiled in the shadows cast by the wide brim of her hat. ❛ — you deaf or somethin' you heel? Scram! back to your deck. ❜ he spat out his stick and rubbed his beard where the drying sweat irritated him. Mizu blinked. The first thing that came to her mind was that he stank. His skin was blotched and scratched from his broken nails, and there were stains all over the front of his pants. They stood there, under the heat of the sun for a moment, sweat beading at the back of her neck, slowly, and then, he spat again, like an overbloated frog chasing flies, she thought, like a pig, scuffing in the mud; he moved to grab at her, and in the blink of an eye, her hand shot out and caught him by the wrist, violently shoving him away. He blinked with the shock of it, evidently not expecting to be refused; he thinks me less than him; he thinks me beneath him, somehow; she realized, only with mild surprise that the sneer now summoned upon her lips did not betray. This pile of dung, thinks me inferior. Mizu stepped towards him forcefully, her eyes flashing like mirrors in the sun, and he immediately backed away, the narrow line of his mouth (chapped and bitten by the cruel winds) puffed out into a disdainful sneer that she suddenly craved to wipe right off his face with such fervor, it took every last bit of her willpower not to cut him open right then and there, her hand shaking with the effort of holding back. He hacked, saliva trickling from his clenched teeth and barked something at her again, feigning bravery, taking another step towards her once she halted her step to near motionlessness, eyes narrowed to slits, watching his every movement; he made to shove her towards the stairs leading to the other deck but Mizu did not badge under his shoving; he clawed at the front of her haori, but she whipped away and intercepted a blow that would have caught her by the throat, ferociously sank her nails into his wrist and held his shuddering arm at bay, and smashed her other fist into the man’s belly. He gasped, surprised and blinked, and she quickly shoved him away with a flick of her wrist, then kicked out viciously; he whirled, dumbfounded, and Mizu closed in on him, ready to grab at his throat, but the sudden sound of bells and metal beating on metal tore the air. Discordant. Piercing. His eyes went to the decks bellow, and he hissed something vicious between those yellowed, rotten teeth, and with a grunt, walked away and back to whatever hole he had crawled out of.

Mizu sneered disgustedly. Her blood was boiling, anger clawing at her veins, that hunger, that thirst left unsatiated, like barbed arrows tearing her open; a wound festering, like a fever deep inside of her. She hated him. She hated this ship; their stench and filthiness; their arrogance and detestable manners. More than that, she was shamed; shamed to share their blood; shamed that they, too, looked at her like she was no more than mud stuck to their heels: unclean; unwanted; strange.

Gritting her teeth, she turned around and stood near the railing, trying very hard not to let her rage explode into a fever that she would never be able to abate.

At dusk it had been feeding time again and the cooks began passing steaming cups of gruel and water which to Mizu, stank and seemed brackish. This was the first time she had actually bothered to come down to the kitchens for dinner, but her stomach ached and her mouth felt dry. She was still silently bristling, but at least the lining up for food and water had been unusually calm. Bowing her thanks, she gathered her cups and went to sit near the slats and beams that made up tiny windows at the side of the ship. She picked at her plate without much jest, feeling strange eyes boring into the back of her neck, but not turning around to meet them.

Then the apelike man —unshaven, filthy, stinking still, worse than he had that morning, dripping in sweat and with a fresh bruise upon his pockmarked cheek—chopped in violently, kicked at the table where she had sat, and took her ration right out of her hand while the others sat in stunned silence to see what would happen. The world around her seemed to ripple and come to a screeching halt. Molten darkness fell over her, piercing and violent, like invisible pinchers squeezing her throat.

Slowly, too slowly, like sand flowing through an hourglass, she pushed her chair back, then stood up and with languid, stiff movements removed her hat and glasses and neatly set them down where her meal had been. The air in the room seemed to thicken. Rain suddenly began to lash the windows, trickling down the glass and filling the room with its cries. A sudden gush of movement, and her hand was at his throat, choking the air right out of him; a sigh filled the room, gasps and flashes of lightning; a furious chill rushing through the world around her; harsh, muffled voices from somewhere far away and the sound of her steps as she landed blow after blow, moving like a serpent, noiselessly, lightly, disarming him with no more than a blow and a violent strike against his jaw which cracked under the heel of her palm. He reeled, howling with rage, and Mizu landed on her feet, perfectly controlled, face hard and cold, devoid of any flushes of effort.

He came at her blindly, slow, like a fish thrashing about on the banks of a dried up river, and she leapt, backing away, laughing; her voice dark and violent, came rushing like a river, flooding the cabin, and as he stood to limp away and in shame, she kicked out viciously, sending him tumbling onto the floors. Then, there were lights through the blackness that had draped itself over her like a burial shroud, and strange voices, calling her out of the depths of her rage.

Slowly, too slowly, she straightened her cape and carefully put on her glasses again, clearing her throat. She put the chair back at the table, and was about to gather her hat and leave the kitchens, when, in the corner, Mizu saw to her amazement that one of the men was offering the cup of gruel and the water that she had presumed lost. Blinking, she took it and thanked the man curtly. He nodded in understanding, and with a faint, parting shake of her head, Mizu walked away.

She did not see him again. She would not see him for quite some time.

Not until much later, after they had made port at Batavia and something darker had come calling her name, desperate, frantic, dogging her every footstep. She never looked behind her out of fear. Out of terror of what she would see following her in her own shadow...

[fooltofancy]

i am still turning the endwalker healer quests over and over in my hands like the shiniest river rock, btw. just, the pettiest shoulder angel fordola "dying's easy, huh"ing him while he's finally closed his stupid eyes to slowly bleed out in a pool of his (and zenos's) own blood alone in the starless sea is so, so funny to me.

[steevejr]

my totally realistic predictions for the way of kings engame:

1. Wikim and Renarin get arranged married (they’re both creepy and weird and scare off the hoes. Also sudoku enthusiasts) so Shallan can go fuck off and be transgender elsewhere while accomplishing her task of securing her house to the kholin house

2. Adolin and Kaladin yaoi break for the next 10 years until Kaladin either kills himself (accidentally) or dies saving Dalinar (intentionally). Adolin learns to dual wield shardblades and it’s really sexy. Maybe he dabbles in gender by learning how to read.

3. Shallan fucks off and goes to be transgender elsewhere (not out of hate I just think she would really enjoy fucking off forever or at least until she got bored). Pattern is there. Also gaz.

4. Rock finally goes back to the peaks to see his wife and kids (rest of bridge 4 goes with him except moash (moash and elhokar are holding hands skipping around because they’re besties again))

5. Jasnah king emperor of roshar everyone please pay your respects to the new queen of everything forever 🙏🙏🙏🙏

see you all in 20 years when the final novel comes out and I’ll be right about everything.

[lienspien]

Im trying to explain to one of my friends about this rosechaser fanfic I have in mind, but SHE DOESN'T GET MY VISION. I am devastated, lost, and in pain

[hanzajesthanza]

also regis swearing at stygga is so meaningful to me because he swore over milva’s dead body and also in front of angoulême (and assumedly cahir too)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hauntingblue]

LUFFY!!!!!!!!! I HAVE BEEN CONVERTED!!!! LUFFY BELIEVER FULL TIME!!!!! LET US WORSHIP THE SUN!!!!

[erumai-maadu]

you know, i think tenten will also give them good luck charms for protection like how she gave her tsunade-sama one in sd.

she totally would, with her penchant for fortune telling, she’d handcraft three good luck/protection charms and give them to each of them.

I like to think she gives them to each of her team at different times.

Lee gets his first, after Tenten overhears him telling Gai-sensei about how he has almost lost hope in his dream to beat Neji.

“Perhaps just hard work isn’t enough,” he sobs to Gai-sensei as Tenten walks away, her heart heavy. She hands him a little good-luck charm at training the next day, a carved dragon, quietly telling him that he should never lose hope.

Neji may be a genius, but Lee is a genius of hard work, and she will protect his boundless hope until he achieves his dream. Perhaps it comes from a place of selfishness. After all, Tenten is no genius herself, and Lee’s hope is her hope too.

Or maybe it’s not selfishness, but relatability.

Whatever it is, Lee thanks her with a huge hug and many, many tears. Tenten protests loudly, but deep down, her heart swells.

He always keeps it in the hidden pocket of his jumpsuit, and never forgets to take the charm out before washing it. He shows it off with pride to everyone, much to Tenten's chagrin.

Gai-sensei receives his next, after both Tenten and Lee end up in the hospital after the Chunin Exams.

After Tenten is healed, she finds her sensei standing over a sleeping Lee, tears rolling down his face. He immediately puts on an act when Tenten walks in, but she knows what she saw, and it weighs on her.

The next day, when Gai-sensei pops into her physical therapy to check on her and offer some good old Gai-sensei encouragement (motivational shouting), Tenten pulls him aside. She hands him a small charm she’d made the previous night, a little wood turtle carved with the symbol for luck.

“Don’t worry sensei, the people you care about will always be okay!” She smiles brightly at him as she sets the charm in his hand. “It’s for protection—”

Gai-sensei’s thanks is also in the form of many, many tears and shouted declarations of his sweet lotus flower’s kindness and compassion. Tenten’s response, as usual, is loud and embarrassed protests, and a secret smile muffled in Gai-sensei’s broad shoulder as he hugs her tightly.

Gai keeps his charm in the safest pocket of his jounin vest, going as far as to ask Genma to give him a seal to make sure it never breaks or gets damaged. After all, his lotus gave it to him so he could protect her and her teammates, and he would rather die than let her down.

Neji is the last to receive his charm, after his fight with Naruto in the final round of the Chunin Exams. He sits in the hospital room and tells her about everything, his clan, his uncle apologizing to him, his restored faith in the future.

"I will change my clan," he insists to her. "I will better it, for all of the Hyuuga."

The next morning, through the rubble of a torn-apart and betrayed village, in the wake of the Sandaime Hokage's death, Tenten walks to the Hyuuga compound dressed in her mourning clothes and deposits a small carved phoenix charm in his hand.

"What's this for?" he asks, turning the charm over in his hand and studying it.

"Good fortune, protection." Unlike the rest of Team Gai, Tenten always keeps her stories to herself. For some reason, she finds the words tumbling out of her. "My mother used to make them for me. They were for protection and good luck."

Neji nods. He runs a thumb over the carved bird's wing. "Protecting what?"

"My hopes, my well-being, whatever it was she thought needed to be protected."

Neji finally looks up at her, understanding filtering through his gaze. Tenten turns around, ears burning. "Come on, let's go. They'll kill us if we're late to the funeral."

Neji stows his charm in the pockets of his clothes and jogs after her.

Several years later, when Lee surpasses everyone around him, his taijutsu a shining beacon of his hard work and dedication, he is ever aware of the wooden dragon in his pocket, the way his hope is a reflection of Tenten's. He vows to work harder, to prove to her that she can do it just like him.

He will protect her hope too.

On the battlefield facing down Madara Uchiha, Gai quickly moves the little turtle charm to the pocket over his heart. To protect the village, to protect his precious students, he can do anything.

"Eighth Gate of Death, release!"

As medics work to stabilize Neji in the emergency tents, they find a blood-soaked phoenix charm clutched in his hand.

His full recovery is nothing short of a miracle.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[bbael]

Feel like a dog eating its own vomit getting into another shitty gacha game about demons aishdjkf

[straightlightyagami]

as a child for a long time the only reason i did not develop an eating disorder was the fact that my family had instilled in me intense shame at ever wasting any food so I had to eat everything I was given even if I felt sick. tbh I still kind of feel that way lol

[chiistarri]

what if instead of messaging me in the middle of the night about your stupid fucking girlfriend and your stupid fucking problems with her you actually act like my fucking friend and message me like how you message everyone else in our group

[red-eft]

i love being trans and take pride in it but if you tell other people in public that i am trans. well. that's not great. maybe don't fucking do that